Hangovers
by trufflemores
Summary: Blaine has a hangover. Kurt is mildly amused. Fluff ensues. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

The world was an eyesore, but the blankets were still warm.

Sufficiently inclined to remain buried underneath them until the world became less dreadful or his headache less abominable, Blaine had almost succeeded in drifting back off to sleep when he felt the blankets migrating westward. He clung to them, digging his toes in, but they still slipped inexorably through his fingers. Flummoxed, he squinted over the rise of his pillow and stared at the top of Kurt's head.

"Kurt," he grunted, reaching for the blankets. Kurt had a tendency to steal the blankets regardless of how hot or cold it was outside, but with the sun shining through the windows Blaine _needed _them. His hangover wouldn't accommodate anything less, and he knew that Kurt hadn't indulged nearly as extravagantly as he had.

Kurt twitched away from his grasping fingers, tightening the blankets around his own shoulders and letting out a low growl of his own when Blaine finally seized the corner of one. Tugging it proved futile; neither Kurt nor the blanket budged. Giving it several more valiant pulls did nothing to improve the situation, and with his headache already escalating to a mind-numbing intensity, Blaine just wanted to crawl underneath them and _sleep_.

Determined, he planted his feet against Kurt's back and pulled. He didn't care if it was childish; it got the job done. After several tense moments Kurt surrendered a fraction of the covers with a put-upon sigh, curling up in his remaining blankets and stoutly ignoring Blaine as he buried his head underneath them gratefully.

The next time he awoke the sun had shifted several degrees and the room was no longer cloaked in sunshine. Blaine, still rampantly hung over, considered it an improvement.

He snuffled into his pillow and considered chasing sleep for a few moments longer until he smelled eggs cooking in the kitchen. A perfunctory pat-down of the space beside him confirmed that Kurt was no longer there. Somewhat disgruntled at the thought of having to get up to find food and equally dismayed that Kurt had abandoned him to his horrible headachy fate, he finally dragged himself to his feet with a groan.

He managed to painfully check his hip against the counter before successfully winding his arms around Kurt's waist and burying his face against the back of his shoulder. "Please tell me there's coffee," he said.

"Mm," Kurt replied, noncommittal at first before he slipped away from Blaine's grasp presented him with a mug instead. "You're welcome."

"You are actually a saint," Blaine said, eyelids sliding shut in pleasure as he sipped. "God, this is just what I needed."

"Not what you were saying last night," Kurt said, an amused smile quirking the edges of his lips as he slid the eggs onto a plate. "Changed your tune?"

"I'm never drinking again," Blaine vowed.

Rolling his eyes as he sprinkled pepper and salt onto his eggs, Kurt picked up a fork and pointed it at him, declaring simply, "Liar."

Blaine grunted, taking another sip from his coffee before he amended, "I'm never drinking _that much _again. I'm not actually sure what the difference between being run over by a truck and my present state of being is."

"One's temporary."

Blaine groaned, resting his forehead against Kurt's shoulder as he set his fork aside and looped an arm around his back. "Was it worth it?"

"Mm." Kurt kissed his temple. "You were pretty cute."

Huddling closer into his arms, afraid of what _pretty cute _entailed, Blaine asked, "Are there pictures?"

Kurt nuzzled his cheek soothingly. "Not this time."

Relieved, Blaine tucked his arms around Kurt's waist and turned his attention towards more important matters. Specifically: "Those eggs smell amazing."

"I might be willing to share them if you give me a back rub," Kurt said.

A moment's thought. "Deal."

He dozed off against Kurt's shoulder twenty minutes later mid-backrub. To his credit, Kurt only laughed, startling him awake and insisting, "Maybe we should lie down?"

"Best idea you've had all morning," Blaine murmured against his shoulder.

Not all hangovers were met so agreeably, but as far as Blaine was concerned, a morning that ended in snuggles was a morning well-spent.


End file.
